Pietersen's ego fills English deficit of leadership

Cricket has not gone totally to the dogs yet, as anyone at Lord's for the deciding one-dayer between England and New Zealand would tell you - even if the mood turned momentarily sour across the Thames at the Oval last week.

Nothwithstanding a bizarre loss of radar by Owais Shah when he veered into Daniel Vettori late in the day, two incidents in the space of a couple of minutes yesterday confirmed that there is underlying good faith in the game, on both sides of the boundary. When Scott Styris hooked James Anderson for six to bring up his 50, the ball landed mere inches over the ropes. It is a fair bet that, had this happened in the concluding overs of the fourth match of the series in south London on Wednesday evening, there would have been intense scrutiny of the television replay, not to mention brooding stares between the antagonists and much agonising in the commentary box over the Spirit of Cricket.

But there was no need to 'go upstairs' here, no rancour, just acclamation of a splendid shot - because there to attest to the legitimacy of the score was Ryan Sidebottom, one of the alleged villains of The Great Collision of Kennington. 'Sid', whose enthusiasm sometimes borders on the confrontational, was happy to raise both hands in the air and make the officials' job a bit easier. Applause near fine leg greeted what was once taken for granted as routine sportsmanship.

Next over, when Grant Elliott - the limping victim of Sidebottom's robust charge at the ball on Wednesday - belted Sidebottom for six, there was a massive cheer around the ground.

As there was for every subsequent slog. The crowd had, for the duration of a wonderfully sunny afternoon anyway, doused the controversy that had threatened to spoil the end of what has been a happy tour by the New Zealanders. They had not come here for a fight; they wanted to be entertained, and were royally obliged by two teams seemingly freed of the dodgy Oval run-out bitterness by playing the game with muscle but no menace.

Cynics might have imagined that England's stand-in captain, Kevin Pietersen, who struggles to convince people he really is a team man, would be a dodgy conciliator. As it happens, there were no incidents to test his mettle the way Paul Collingwood had his equilibrium disturbed at the Oval. The job seemed to fit him like a glove. He was less showy than normal, thoroughly engaged and marshalled his side with military correctness from mid-off. He made some thoughtful field changes and hurried his men to their places between overs. (His careless push to gully for six after 23 balls wasn't so clever.)

It is impossible to know how Pietersen would have reacted in Collingwood's situation - or how any relatively callow captain would have responded to the temptation of removing an opponent in so harsh a manner at so crucial a point in a match, even as he lay injured on the ground. That is the benefit of youth: you are forgiven a certain number of sins.

In a way, KP - or Kev, as he might one day come to be called - was the perfect replacement. Foisting responsibility on to a man who gives every impression of being preternaturally selfish (or what his friend Shane Warne described in yesterday's Times as 'a very driven man') might have been a master stroke of psychological subtlety.

Authoritarians and fogeys would rather stick with establishment men than rogue egotists, probably, and they could point to the Caribbean this weekend for evidence of an allegedly reformed larrikin losing it again.

For the third time in his interesting career, Australia's Ricky Ponting has been fined for dissent - each time while in charge of his national team. That is pretty poor. The latest incident, in the second one-day international against West Indies in Grenada on Friday, was another curled-lip questioning of the umpire. Patrick Browne seemed to get something on a turner from Michael Clarke that went through to the keeper, but Norman Malcolm was unmoved - unlike Ponting, who descended upon the umpire quickly.

As the post-match hearing was told, the Australian captain appeared to say something to Malcolm. Ponting pleaded not guilty. The panel did not believe him and fined him a third of his match fee.

That Australia went on to win by 63 runs hardly mattered. There were precious few people to watch it anyway. Instead, Ponting had left a stain on the memory - not for the first time.

Nobody disputes that the weight of leadership can be tiresome. But it is not compulsory. If you are going to be in charge, you have to be a little bit smart in more ways than one.

Had Collingwood reversed England's appeal on Wednesday night and then lost the game, he would have been fondly remembered for ever for his sense of fair play. As it was, even if England had won, it would have been a contaminated victory. But he was blinded by the moment. It was not a crime, just a weakness - and a good reason not to give the captaincy back to him.

King Kev, your reign could start here.

Ouseley joins the 'breakthrough' bunch

After the Guv'nor, another brick in the wall is quietly dislodged.

The FA had already decided to bring Lord Herman Ouseley on to their Council before Paul Ince became the first British-born black manager of a Premier League club last week, but the announcement of his appointment two days later was happy coincidence indeed.

Happy, that is, for most reasonable people. Guardian and Observer readers, for instance. Or so you'd imagine. When my column on Ince went into the blogosphere last week, the reaction from under the duvets was interesting.

A selection: '... predictably the Guardian have to turn the whole episode into a question of his race.' Someone else called the piece 'patronising' and 'ill-judged'. Another observed, 'It is a shame Mitchell has to clamber on the race band wagon.' Etc.

And, just as they didn't see Ince's move to Blackburn Rovers as a 'breakthrough' or 'milestone', they will probably wonder what all the fuss over Ouseley is about.

Well, sorry guys, but here I go up on the bandwagon again, trumpet in hand, aimed at Jericho.

Ouseley, who started the Kick It Out campaign that has had such a profound impact on racism in football, will sit on the new Race Equality Advisory Group, alongside Robbie Earle. And he will rattle some trees.

He reckons the FA 'have done brilliantly' in making black and Asian supporters more welcome in the England set-up. That's all relative. Anyone who has stood in among some of the hardcore will know the menace has not quite disappeared.

But Ouseley is right to point out that the new chairman, Lord Triesman, an old leftie who manages not to scare the horses at Soho Square, is a 'breath of fresh air' at the FA. What you might call a 'breakthrough'. White, as well.

Khan doesn't need a genius, just some common sense

In the early hours of the Birmingham morning, not long after he'd seconded Amir Khan in his 18th professional win, Dean Powell was reflecting on the technical pros and cons of the fighter's dazzling, but naive performance against Michael Gomez.

'We had to tell him to step off, set himself and counter,' Powell said, 'not to get so involved. As soon as he did, he was fine.'

Now Powell never really had a boxing career - but he has a keen understanding of the subtleties of the fight game. He talks good, calm sense, and has been in the corner with some excellent fighters. As Frank Warren's matchmaker, Powell has also made many of Khan's fights for him since he turned professional after the Athens Olympics.

But this was different. This was hands-on with the champ, the future of British boxing, a kid who has made a lot of money and has the potential to make a hell of a lot more. Not a bad gig.

Powell spent six weeks preparing Khan for the fifth defence of his Commonwealth lightweight title, after the unbeaten star had sacked his long-time trainer, Oliver Harrison, who was rightly upset about rumours that Khan's advisers were going to replace him with a high-profile American.

Powell was drafted in quickly, alongside the experienced Jimmy Tibbs. Training went well. Khan effused to Warren that Powell was teaching him some valuable new tricks, tidying up his footwork, getting him in range to maximise the power of his jabs. These weren't great secrets - just common sense moves. They have been part of boxing since James J Corbett called himself a Gentleman.

On the night, however, Khan, not for the first time, turned entertainer. He got dragged into too many untidy exchanges with Gomez and was so keen to please the American moguls watching his untrammelled progress that he forgot to keep his hands up. In the second he was decked by a wide left hook a novice could have seen coming.

This is worrying. It was his third trip to the floor, the two previous hiccups coming against light hitters, the Frenchman Rachid Drilzane in 2006 and Willie Limond last July. If Gomez had been in his prime last Saturday, he would have seriously embarrassed Khan.

No trainer - Eddie Futch, Angelo Dundee, Teddy Atlas, Manny Steward, Lou Duva, Enzo Calzaghe, Harrison, Powell nor Tibbs - can legislate for a fighter's rush of blood or lack of concentration. Yet the myth persists about trainers that they are magicians - especially if they own a zip code in Philadelphia or Brooklyn.

Good ones, wherever they are from, are flexible but firm. They are psychologists, as well as technical advisers. Dundee couldn't box a lick - but he knew how to keep Muhammad Ali happy. Duva was like an angry uncle and must have scared his fighters as much as some opponents did. The best of them all, Futch, combined pedigree and wisdom, as well as an understanding of the strange psyches of fighters.

What Khan's connections don't understand is that their meal ticket is an intuitive boxer. He needs basic guidance, and self-discipline, not some overpaid egotist bigging up his own reputation. You don't have to speak out of the side of your mouth with a drawl to unravel the mysteries of boxing. You need a fighter who does what he's told.